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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722765">R.I.P.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LailabugTheReader/pseuds/LailabugTheReader'>LailabugTheReader</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inspired by Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, The Tell-Tale Heart - Edgar Allan Poe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Horror-ish, I'm Going to Hell, Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, What Have I Done, What the fuck I mean it is I guess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:56:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LailabugTheReader/pseuds/LailabugTheReader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it really so hard to believe that it could be a woman? Angels aren't always as they seem. Sometimes, they just want to rip out some throats. Apparently, that is 100% valid. Who knew?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>R.I.P.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I stood, taking ahold of my bag. Turning to leave, I saw a woman sitting in the waiting room. Her eyes betrayed the nervousness within. Glancing back at my desk, I closed the folder, tucking it underneath my arm. I smiled to the woman as I passed her, seeming to calm her.  </p><p>After I left the building, I smiled again, opening the folder and making a bold mark on the page. </p><p>*****</p><p>At home, I took out a book to read before settling down.  </p><p>“How was your day?” Father asked. </p><p>I hummed in response. “It was well enough, I suppose. I crossed off another from the list.” </p><p>“So, it was rather calm, then.” He surmised. </p><p>“Indeed.” I closed my book to ready myself for sleep. </p><p>*****</p><p>The following morning, I arrived to a sense of general unease. I approached a coworker. </p><p>“What is wrong? The office seems on edge today.” </p><p>He looked around cautiously before confiding, “I have heard that there was another murder.” </p><p>I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. “How terrible… That makes the second this month, correct?” </p><p>He nodded confirmation. At that, I nodded my thanks in return before moving to prepare for the work-day. There was a new woman at the clinic, just as nervous as those before her. I laughed slightly at a joke only I knew, passing her. </p><p>*****</p><p>The sun set upon the waters of the Thames, casting a rare radiance upon the city, the warm tones overtaking the usually overcast skies. </p><p>Sitting on my balcony to eat, I laughed, noticing some dirt on my normally clean hands. I must have been messy. </p><p>“Your hands are strained red, Angela.” </p><p>“I was impatient, enraged at her stupidity. Irrational- I know I was. But in her eyes, there was no regret, nor guilt- it angered me, Father! Her selfishness...” </p><p>He chuckled. “You are just as calm and rational as I, my child. You have reason to your madness. They simply cannot see, and you are beginning to go blind... Do not lose the sight in your clear eyes, my daughter.” </p><p>“Yes, father.” </p><p>*****</p><p>I walked through the solemn streets of London, the bewitching hour upon the city. The moon silently shone behind the towering form of Big Ben. I had been messy again. My dress was almost stained. It is a good thing I wore a leather apron; I suppose. It does look a bit odd, but it served its purpose well. </p><p>I sang under my breath, a wordless song, a song of tranquil madness. It was time. </p><p>*****</p><p>“Doctor Angela, he struck again last night!” My assistant rushed to me, holding the paper carelessly. </p><p>“So he did. Jack the Ripper, they call him? He is rather vicious. I do wonder why they assume that he is a man?” I mused. </p><p>“No woman would do such a thing to another!” She defended. </p><p>“Is that so?” I trailed off thoughtfully before moving to begin my routine once more.  </p><p>*****</p><p>A woman walked into my office. “Doctor, I need to get rid of it...” </p><p>*****</p><p>I saw red. Crimson, maroon, whatever you may name it. They mocked me. My suffering. My pain! Did they know how it felt to be unable to have the child for which I had longed? That I had one before life’s cruel grasp took them both away, without even being able to have another... </p><p>What woman would willingly choose to undergo that suffering? Who would give up someone to love them from the moon and back? Someone to teach and laugh with? </p><p>She does not deserve it! All of the things she has! </p><p>I tore out her organs, her blasphemous womb! I slit her throat that said such things. Oh, you should have seen it, Father. It was so red, like a rose in its peak. Beautiful, really, in her death. I laughed. She cannot defy my will. </p><p>
  <em>She laughed, ruffling the child’s hair. Rummaging in her pockets, she gave him a bill and a candy before he ran away, thanking her.<em></em></em>
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  <em>
    <em>Why was she so kind to him? <strong>Why? <strong></strong></strong></em>
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